The Competition
Posted on 25 Sep 2022 @ 10:01am by Sylvie Hardt - Surrat Gallery & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Promenade - Surrat Art Gallery
Timeline: MD06 - 1230HRS
2122 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure
Armed with a bottle of wine, (a Seligmacher Riesling, from Earth), Brek slowed down when he approached the location of Ms Hardt’s gallery. Had he not done his homework and collected what information was available on this specific civilian, he would have barged in, happy-go-lucky, to her place, and made, no doubt, a right fool of himself. For, just like most species think that Ferengi are abject and best avoided, he had a persistent aversion to Cardassians. Their history alone made him want to keep his distance.
However in this instance, with Ms Hardt representing the competition, he had no choice. Introducing himself was an imperative. And, hopefully they would be able to work together, rather than against each other.
He took a deep breath, plastered the semblance of a smile to this face, and he entered the gallery.
“Ms Hardt? Are you here?” He said, his voice a little hesitant. “Something curious, but it is to be hoped, not unfortunate happened: you have competition.”
There was something of a pause, before an ashen-skinned woman in a simple black dress emerged, first visible through a decorative lattice wall that served as a partition between the gallery and the wall of offices in the back. Sylvie had known of the entry and seen it on the camera. Most guests gave themselves a little tour of the collection and she allowed them space before deciding if she should shadow them from the other side of the room, on the off chance thy might need to inquire about the art work. It was very rarely that anyone called out for her to meet them. But it was a Ferrengi, after all. They did tend to have somewhat less refined manners. She adjusted her opinion of this one's social graces when it seemed he'd had the foresight to bring some wine.
"I am Sylvie Hardt, owner of Surrat Gallery." She acknowledged him with a mild smile while folding her hands together. "To what competition might you be referring, Mister...?"
"Brek, owner of 'Timeless Treasures', a new art gallery that is going to open on this fine Promenade." Brek promptly answered. His smile was still there, somewhat frozen. Having seen Ms Hardt’s profile, he knew how she looked, and yet, the colour of her skin, eyes and hair had impressed him more than he cared to admit. The woman resembles more a dignitary than the owner of a gallery. Then, seeing that his wine had not gone unnoticed, he added: “I brought a little something to make this hmm... piece of news more palatable.” He gave her the bottle.
“Would you have time to discuss strategy with me? It shouldn’t be difficult for us to sell widely different types of artwork. For instance, on my side I have a marked preference for Romulan art. What about you, Ms Hardt? Where do your preferences go?”
"Ah! Terran Riesling." Sylvie politely accepted the wine, and, with no apparent rush, took a few high-heeled steps to a side bar that stood empty beside the stand with the guest book. It was where she set the spread for opening nights, and underneath she knelt to collect two glasses. "I do think this will aid the discussion," she agreed, pleasantly.
"As for my tastes, they are somewhat broad and varied. I do have some favored styles and themes surrounding my own cultural influences." She began to reply as she found the corkscrew and wound the bottle open. "However, my collection and showings do include work from territory in the former Star Empire." She poured half glasses for them both, corking the bottle again and returning one to her guest and apparent competitor. "Although not exclusively. " She took a sip, and a few more steps to pause before one of the prominent works on display, the key piece around which she had organized the room. There were multiple figures partially carved out of translucent poly resin, their striving bodies seemingly demanding to be simultaneously seen and hidden, highly polished at some points and barely defined at others. but it was clear from the points of some of the revealed ears and the high arch of their burdened, suffering brows that they were vulcanoid in anatomy. "At the moment for instance, I have on display selected contemporary work by refugees, displaced from their homes in various sectors of Romulan space. It has been selling quite well, in part no doubt due to the cause of the artists themselves."
Glass in hand, Brek followed Ms Hardt, and just like her, he admired the centrepiece. The work was admirable, and so were the other sculptures. With fluidity they all managed to translate the hardship of those refugees. It was touching. But he would never admit to that aloud. Ferengi don’t do that sort of thing. All that ever mattered was profit. Always and Forever.
He took a little sip of wine. “So you too have an interest in Romulan Art... And you have gathered an impressive collection of sculptures. It is interesting to note that everything sells, including pain and sorrow...”
"Art and Pain are often synonymous," Sylvie agreed.
He went to observe another elusive figure. “I’m envious of what you have achieved. On my side I focus exclusively on paintings. Romulan, whenever I can. For the most part they are from established artists. There is a juicy market for those too. I have discovered a few years ago that people - well, except my own people that is - like to help those in need. It would be a crime not to assist those who want to help."
He drank some more wine (fruity, with hints of apricot and pear) while observing the gallery owner, and then he changed subject: “Ms Hardt, are you, by any chance interested in politics?”
"Politics, like those dark specters, death and taxes, are unavoidable, I'm afraid," she said with some resignation. "But I do find denial of political matters a position of the ignorant and the unwise. What leads you to ask?"
“Because there are, among my clients, a fair number of politicians. This is one way to make easy money.” The Ferengi gave a little shrug. “I hope my question wasn’t too abrupt. Although I spent a few years in diplomacy, I may have lost some of my tact along the way... In any case, although we share a common interest in Romulan art, I’m pleased to see that our approach appears to be widely different. Now regarding this station, do you have any information on what’s going on? I’ve been detained in customs for a couple of hours, and I heard of Starfleet not releasing a person’s silverware. This is not a proper way to treat perfectly innocent civilians...”
"A diplomat..." Sylvie took a longer draught of the wine, the idea catching her quite off her guard, almost as if she'd been told a joke. And yet she found it intriguing as well for as unexpected as it was. She also considered momentarily telling him she dealt in some paintings as well, but they had been taken down to be displayed in one of the new restaurants... But she refrained, curious what response it might illicit when he learned it on his own. "A diplomat indeed. Ah yes. There have been some restrictions on Obsidian Command to which many proprietors take umbrage. I have taken it upon myself to amass a list of grievances with my solicitor and am obtaining signatories in anticipation of taking the matter up with station command. It is my hope that some of the restrictions might be adjusted, to be more amenable for doing business."
Brek noted how Ms Hardt considered his words. True enough, at first glance, a Ferengi diplomat was as credible as, say, a Klingon ballet dancer. “I can fully understand how proprietors would be exasperated by such measures. But what pushed Security to impose them in the first place, do you know? Are we in... in danger? Maybe traveling to this station at this very moment was not so judicious after all,” Brek added, curious to hear Ms Hardt’s version on the situation.
"No one in command is being forthwith concerning the particular reasons for the heightened alert and additional restrictions. We are meant to believe it is 'additional diligence'. As to the judiciousness of operating on a Starbase, I will say I feel as safe here as anywhere else on the border. The station is well fortified. Starfleet has a high level of defense, but then, it is a military installation, and such do become targets for enemies of the Federation. Hence, those who venture to operate here are more enterprising than those who seek more meager profits in more predictable locales. The greater the risk—"
“Yes, I too love this correlation between risk and profit,” Brek added with a faint smile. “I also love secrets, but only to a point... Starfleet, on the other hand, loves its covert operations a bit too much. Do you reckon they are keeping us, civilians, in the dark because the menace is, so far, well contained, or maybe even only hypothetical? Or perhaps they are giving us the mushroom treatment because they are concerned we would panic?” He took a sip of wine. “Not to imply that you would panic under any circumstances, Ms Hardt. But I certainly would.”
He went to observe another one of those evanescent sculptures assembled in this gallery and his thoughts focused on a different topic. He felt sure that Ms Hardt had heard interesting rumours on this mysterious situation. But of course she wouldn’t tell him. To make an ally of that woman would take some time. It might even be out of his reach...
"The mushroom treatment..." Sylvie mused out loud. A smile played on her lips as she sorted out his meaning, and she swirled and finished her wine glass. "The mushroom treatment, indeed. I should be disappointed in any defense installation which didn't manage it's civilian population in darkness and night soil. Anticipating panic and flight is a delicate matter. We all like to imagine there is someone entrusted with more knowledge whom may direct the course of worlds. It takes great intentional blindness to achieve that level of bliss. I do at times envy it." She put her emptied glass down on the corner of a ledge.
"One could also say that perfect shielding creates perfect blindness.” He gave Ms Hardt a quizzical look, and he too put his glass away. “For my part I like to have an idea of who pulls the strings, or as I prefer to put it, who are the forces that try to organize chaos. In this case, who wants to harm Obsidian Command? I can tell you won’t be the one to give me even the beginning of a rumor... So, what is the best place to gather gossip on this station?”
"I doubt you'll have trouble honing in on whispers with ears like your own," Sylvie complimented him, dodging naming any of her preferred sources.
"True, those beauties are indeed quite efficient..." Brek admitted, nonetheless disappointed that there was truly no help to receive from Ms Hardt.
"Tell, me, Mister Brek, when do you anticipate opening your gallery? I should like to attend any opening festivities you might have."
“Ferengi festivities... “ Brek mused with a little smile, “it has a certain ring to it. You don’t know whether you are going to be entertained or robbed. I can see why you wouldn’t want to miss such an event."
She chortled at the self deprecation of his own kind, but refrained from commenting on it. She had her own aversions to aspects of Cardassian *and* Human culture from her own heritages after all.
"I hope to open Timeless Treasure within a couple of days, and I'll make sure to send you an invite."
"I shall be on the lookout for it," she promised.
"I look forward to seeing you at this event." Brek added with a quick nod. This was sincere, but he had a gazillion things to do before he could send any invitation. "I must dash now, thank you for your time, and have a good day, Ms Hardt.”
As the curiosity of a Ferengi took his leave, Sylvie stood a bit longer in thought, then poured herself another half-glass of the wine before tucking the bottle into the wine cooler under the service board. "A little competition is always good for business," she mused on her way back to her office. "Keeps one on their toes."
